The Rambling memoirs of Scorpius Malfoy
by Holo Flora
Summary: Which are almost completely to do with Albus Severus Potter and why the hell we ever even spoke to each other. slash? yes.
1. In Which Potter Saves My Life

**The rambling memoirs of **

**Scorpius Malfoy**

which are almost completely to do with

Albus Severus Potter

And exactly why the hell we ever even spoke to each other.

I was eleven years old, with a chili bowl hair cut which I hated, and my father's words ringing in my ears: "Remember, you're a Malfoy!" It wasn't like I was ever bloody well allowed to forget it, either. To this day, people I don't even know will sneer at me because I'm Draco Malfoy's son, or worse, Lucius Malfoy's grandson. I had been sorted right and proper into Slytherin house (even after I had been almost sure I'd end up in Hufflepuff) and was looking forward to things being the way they should. Albus Potter's older brother James had been sorted into Gryffindor, and as he stumbled up the stage there was no doubt in anybody's mind that he would too. That was why the entire Great Hall seemed to gasp, and then everything went eerily silent, when the sorting hat shouted SLYTHERIN!

And the little twit was grinning! Not in a smug, 'ha ha, I knew it' way, but a shy, pleased and genuine smile. He didn't seem to notice how little applause he was getting, just hopped off the three-legged stool and scurried over to MY house table. Of course, at that time I had no idea what his dad had said to him at King's Cross, nor did I even recollect that his middle name was Severus, though there was quite the buzz about it when he was born. The idea that a Potter, especially one that looked so much like Harry Potter himself, should be in Slytherin had never even crossed my mind. Albus Potter belonged in Gryffindor! We were supposed to be casual rivals, battling wits, trying to best each other, and dammit if every bit of advice my father had given me wasn't contradicting themselves in my head, until I felt more lost and alone than ever before. How could I form allies and friendships with my housemates, if one of them was Potter? How could I beat Potter at every test, and beat him on the Quidditch pitch if we were on the same side?! My world crumbled around me.

Over the next several weeks I avoided Potter at all costs, even to the point of neglecting my other housemates as well. More than once I was reading through one of our textbooks on the sleek leather couch, only to have Potter come in and sit down to read a bit himself. At these moments, image be dammed, I got the blooming fuck out of there, and barricaded myself in my bed. I didn't make friends; I made good use of the curtains of my four-poster and kept them out of my little world. I didn't even use the Slytherin common room, if anyone else was in there. My grades went through the roof, even as I dug myself deeper and deeper into the pit of despair.

I had been at Hogwarts all of six weeks when I decided to kill myself. I thought I'd do it at the Owlery; send my suicide letter to my father, then jump out the window.

The letter went something like this:

_Dear Father,_

_I'm sure you've heard that I'm getting very good grades in school, but it's just not enough. The only reason I study so much is because I don't have any friends to do other things with. Albus Potter is in Slytherin and I feel like I don't belong at all. I can't do this any more. I'm sorry for being such a disapointment._

_Love,_

_Scorpius_

The winds whipped through my hair and over my face as I stood on the window ledge, watching Frances, the gorgeous female eagle owl Father had bought me just before school, disappear into the distance. I took a couple very deep breaths, and was inching my toes closer to the very edge of my perch when I heard the Owlry door open behind me. I didn't care. Let the unsuspecting twerp watch me splatter below, they would tell my father first hand that it wasn't an accident.

"Are you going to jump?"

Crap. It was Potter.

"So what if I am?" I mumbled, staring determinedly at the ground so very far below me, "go away."

I could hear him coming closer to me and braced myself to fight off his attempt to pull me off the ledge. As I predicted, his hand grabbed the back of my shirt, but he didn't try to drag me backwards. Instead he used me as leverage to hoist himself onto the window ledge with me.

"I-if you jump, you'll t-take me with you" the fear was evident in his voice, and when I turned a bit to face him my jaw dropped.

Albus Potter was standing on the edge of a 100ft (more or less…probably more…) drop, one hand gripping tightly at the back of my tailored cotton button-up, the other _covering his eyes_. He was teetering precariously.

"Are you out of your mind?!" I cried, shifting my weight to put my hand on his chest to prevent him angling too far forward.

"I'm afraid of heights!" he squeaked, surprised at the touch from a combination of fear and the fact that he hadn't seen it coming.

Afraid of heights. I kid you not.

"You can't be afraid of heights!"

"Like hell I can't!" he squeaked, still keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Oh, merlinmerlinmerlinmerlinmerlin."

We were going to fall, I could feel it. My left arm was the only thing holding on to the wall, as the other one tried to keep him from tilting too far forward. Both his hands were occupied, the left one now twisting the back of my shirt out of shape, the other still pressed hard against his eyes. The wind whipped up and slapped my face, causing me to lose my balance even more. We both pressed forward for a moment before I was just able to lean back and push on him hard enough to throw us onto the safety of the owlry floor…and into a whole lot of owl shit.

"oh, disgusting!" I found myself torn between wanting to frantically brush off the bird crap from my favorite shirt (well, I was going to kill myself, why not wear my best?), and not wanting to touch it. I turned to see Potter, not even bothering to try to get clean, looking very proud of himself.

Fuck.

"Stand back!" I said, scrambling to my feet quickly, ready to run out the window rather than let him have the satisfaction.

"Oh no you don't!" he cried, grabbing the front of my shirt roughly (my poor shirt!). We're pretty evenly matched, and I don't see myself getting from that grip easily, though I could sort of pull him along. So we're back to square one: I jump, he comes with me.

"Don't jump." He commanded, all while I'm struggling to get free.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"You can't do anything! You owe your life to me! It's a spell!" I sort of stopped struggling and stared. He can't be serious. Only, he is. He always is, as I would learn over the next few days, weeks, months, and years.

"Wa-What?" I must have looked very un-Malfoy-ish in that moment, but that was another thing I would have to learn to get used to.

"It's a spell," he nodded knowingly, "sort of like the one my dad used." I know the one. Everyone knows the one. That's how famous his dad is, everyone knows an unnamed spell that his dad used once. Once! Well, twice if you count when he was a baby, but that was more cast on him, than him using it on everyone…Everyone!

"Oh, not that one!" he says, seeing the look on my face, "it's a different one. A simpler one."

"Well…what does it do…?"

"Erm, well…" he put the tip of his index finger to his lips in an overly cute way that brought out my best sneer, "I risked my life to save yours, so…now you owe me!" he looked so proud.

"It's not like you saved me from rampaging centaurs or an evil wizard, here, Potter!"

"No, I saved you from yourself!"

"Yeah, yeah…" I narrowed my eyes at him angrily, "what? Like your dad did for mine?"

He frowned at this, instead of the smug smile I had expected.

"I am not my father," he said quietly.

"I'm not my father either!"

"Good, then." Potter was smiling again. I just stared at him, but he didn't seem to notice the ridiculousness of it all, or if he did, he didn't act like it.

"What is your _problem_?" I asked, mouth sort of hanging open, threading one of my hands through the hated hair.

"I don't have any friends" he answered flatly "I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't. I mean, there's Rosie, but she's my cousin and a Gryffindor, so I don't think that counts. And the thing is, well, it doesn't look like you do either. I mean, you don't have any cousins, right? So you don't even have the have-to-be-friends person like I do."

"What about your brother?" I ask, not stopping to think about what I'm saying.

"I'm not _friends_ with my _brother_!" the look he gave me was so decidedly Slytherin that I couldn't help but laugh a little. He grinned at my giggle, and as soon as I stopped laughing, a sort of awkward silence settled between us.

"so…" I coughed, and looked to the side, trying not to meet his eyes. Imagine my surprise when a hand was presented before my face.

"friends?" he asked, jiggling his hand a tiny bit, asking for it to be shook. I blinked, meeting those large green orbs and swallowing. Something in my head told me this was a turning point. For good or for worse, something was about to happen.

"sure, why not?" I stuck out my hand and we shook.

Nothing would ever be the same.

**I know, I know. "How could you?! You're supposed to updating Trappings!!!" **

**Don't worry; I'm not giving up on that story! In fact, I've pretty much got the whole thing planned out, but I got this idea and the opportunity to write a Scorpius/Albus just could not be passed up!**

**Review pwease!**

**Wotcher (whatever it means)**

**Flora**


	2. In Which I Learn of Potter's Family

I think some people might have been confused about what spell exactly Albus was talking about

**I think some of my lovely reviewers (not to mention Brooke, my marvelous Beta) might have been confused about what spell exactly Albus was talking about. **

**It's nothing too technical, but I assume Albus heard the story about his father sparing Wormtail's life and having his spared in return, and mixed it up in his head with the "dying for the ones you love" spell, so that he could demand Scorpius become his friend. Whether or not Albus actually believes it's truly a spell is a toss up. But that's our puckish little Slytherin!**

**Also, I had just watched **_**It's a Wonderful Life**_** before the first chapter…**

**So here's chapter two! Don't forget to review! (I'm a poet and I know it)**

As much as I would have hated to admit it at the time, hanging out with Albus was an insane amount of fun, especially with the horrified way people reacted to it. The sons of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, in fact the look-a-likes of the legendary enemies, meandering down the hall ways together, brushing shoulders and being civil. They whispered at us behind our back, the gossiping little twits. Every day I expected it to be splashed across the front of the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler, but it seemed that not even the newspapers were exactly sure what to do with us.

Most Slytherins still didn't speak to us, but the McNealy twins in Ravenclaw smiled in our general direction across the Great Hall. This was something Albus had not yet learned to appreciate, but for which my newly acquired libido was more than grateful. I wasn't exactly sure how threesomes worked, but I knew that twins were the best at it. (To this day I am still vaguely horrified by the fact that at _eleven_ I was contemplating a threesome, although I'm sure Albus would say it's no surprise.)

The fact is that, aside from distant smiles, people still didn't actually socialize with us all that often. Strangely enough, when you have someone to share that with, it doesn't seem so bad. We were both good students, but instead of writing essays long into the night before crying myself to sleep, I now took part in "sleep-over" study sessions, kicked off by a short trip to the kitchens for sweets. Then we would scurry back to our dorm and into one or the other's bed. I still wonder if ol' Professor Bones ever noticed the chocolate stains on my Transfiguration essay, although they were pretty faint by the time I turned it in.

Albus told me all about his family, which was huge. I barely had any at all outside of my mother and father, but with the Potters, Weasleys, and Longbottom tacked on the end (not to mention the Scammanders and Thomas'), their numbers were way up in the double digits. He told me all about James, the Potter/Weasley pride child: Gryffindor, newly a chaser, fair grades, good-natured prankster, and his little sister, Lily, who was a bit whiny by what I gathered. He had lots of uncles (whose names I could not have repeated at the time, and so will not attempt to do so now), and with those came numerous cousins, though none as prominent in his life as Rose and Hugo. Hugo was soft-spoken, clever, funny, and possibly psychic. Rosie was smart but tough, and loved martial arts and books about adventurous women. Their father, he added, had told her to beat me at every test, and that it was okay to be friends, but not to marry me. This of course sparked a debate on the best way to expose Rosie's and my "love affair" to the Weasleys. Our roommates may or may not have been woken up that night by muffled laughter.

At any rate it would be another year and a half until we mastered the _muffliato_

spell, although this would be coupled with the mastery of quite a few others. Necessity, they say, is the mother of Invention, but did you know that Invention's brother was called Learning Beyond Your Grade Level? (I really must apologize for that, but I honestly cannot think of a better name.) Well, our rapidly acquired magical skill may not have been as dramatic as the Marauders, but if Albus had been a werewolf then by Merlin's pants I would have learned to turn into a dog, as I am sure he would have done the same for me.

We'd been friends, real friends, for all of three weeks when I got father's reply. It came by morning owl post, but we didn't have to leave our seats in the Great Hall for privacy. Apart, we had been as ignored as dingy wallpaper, but together it was like having some disgusting and contagious disease. More than not we had a good fourth of the Slytherin table to ourselves, with everyone else sitting closer than usually comfortable just to avoid us.

I untied the letter from Frances' foot, and with a piece of toast, sent her on her way. unrolling the parchment, I scooted closer to Albus so that he could read over my shoulder.

_Dear Scorpius,_

_I met Harry Potter in Madam Malkin's about two months before the start of my first term. We didn't talk much, but I had no friends my father had not preordained for me, so hoped that he would be an ally if we met again at school. However, when we met on the train, he had already made friends with Weasley, and I had discovered who he really was. I tried to convince him that Weasley was not the kind of person he wanted to be involved with, and offering him my hand, insisted that I was a much better option. _

_How might life have been different had he shook my hand? I do not know. He and Weasley became as close as brothers, while Potter and I felt nothing but disdain from that moment on. We did everything we could to make life harder for each other, and in many respects, succeeded in doing so. _

_It is not that I think things might have been any different. My father was still who he was, and Potter was still The Boy Who Lived. But I hope that you can appreciate the delicate balance of fate, and what a single handshake could have meant to each and every wizard's life, including yours._

_Scorpius, you are in Slytherin. If the Sorting Hat placed you there, it is where you belong. A Potter being in your house does not change that. Indeed, you must remember that he is probably having a bit of an identity crisis himself, and is doubtless not being very well met by his fellow Slytherins. Therefore, my advice is the same: make friends, create allies; your second family is your house._

_Awaiting better news next time,_

_Dad_

_P.S. Getting very good grades, are you? Disappointment has two 'p's_

I laughed at my father's post script, but Albus didn't. He was paranoid like that (still is actually), always looking out for little things he was sure were signs of my father abusing me. Let me tell you, my father and I may not share cuddle time like the Potters, but he is not abusive, or even neglectful. We do things together, and write each other constantly when the former is not possible. He's told me stories about what a douche his dad was, and so we both do our best to make our relationship a hell of a lot different. It takes work, but he's a good dad, really. And don't look at me like that, being a good father has nothing to do with being forced into being a Death Eater… I said don't look at me like that!

I would later find out that Dad had written and rewritten that letter, not knowing that I had been so close to suicide, and were it not for Albus I might have been unable to read anything ever again.

"It's almost like he's…like he's giving you his blessing…to be friends with me," Albus offered cautiously.

"But he'd have to know we were friends in the first place," I said, tucking the letter under my plate, "which he doesn't."

"Good point."

We didn't talk for a few minutes, just letting our thoughts and the sounds of the Great Hall wash over us. At least now I didn't have to worry about Dad freaking out over my newfound friendship, as long as I didn't mention how it was started. Albus, however, seemed even more worried. He had gradually begun screwing up his face more and more until he was all narrow eyes and bunching brows.

"Do you think…" I began, trying to reason why he was so upset.

"What?" He looked up at me quickly, fully alert and more intense than I had expected. I jumped a little and internally reprimanded myself for it.

"How do you think your dad will feel about…us?"

"Bloody well suspicious," he answered immediately, pretty much confirming that that's what he'd been thinking on so hard.

"Suspicious of what?"

"Of you. Of your dad. Of why your dad is so okay with everything." He turned towards me, his bright green eyes meeting mine, and we just sort of looked at each other for a while, still thinking really hard. It certainly occurred to me that Albus might be a little suspicious himself.

"Albus." The two of us turned to see James looming above. He frowned pointedly at me before turning to his little brother.

"Hagrid wants you for tea."

"Just me?"

"I have class." He gave me another hard look, and walked away.

"I don't think your brother likes me." I said, as if it were something new. Albus grinned wryly at me and rolled his eyes.

"I guess I should go grab Rosie." He thought aloud, squinting across the Great Hall in search of bushy, red hair.

Okay, I'm only going to say this once, but, seriously, poor Rosie and Hugo. Their father, Ron Weasley, has freckles, a big nose, gangly limbs, and shudder red hair. Their mother, Hermione Granger-Weasley, has bushy, dull brown hair, wide hips, and I have it on high authority that she used to have rather large front teeth. What were they thinking when they decided to procreate?! Rose and Hugh don't really have bad looks, but theirs aren't as, let's say, refined as Albus' and mine. As I said before, Al and I pretty much look identical to our fathers (with the exception of Albus' freckles, which I will harp on later).

Albus beckoned to his cousin as we left the Great Hall, and she (perhaps a bit begrudgingly) followed after us. We waited for her by the main doors, and she bounded towards us, all fluffy pigtails and wary brown eyes. She took a personal moment to glare at both of our Slytherin ties, and to straighten her own Gryffindor one, before asking in an annoyed tone: "Well? What is it?"

"Hagrid wants us over. Reckoned you'd want to come along." Albus said easily, pointedly ignoring the way she and I were glaring at each other. It was the classic Weasley/Malfoy rivalry over Potter. Weasley had won the last round, but this time around Malfoy was quickly pulling to the front of the pack.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

"Well, I suppose you're going to drag me along, Potter?" I smirked, thinking he'd reply with the negative.

Instead, his face brightened considerably and he grabbed the cuff of my sleeve.

"Of course, Scorpius!" he tugged on my sleeve happily, "This is your first test!"

"Test?"

"Yes," Rosie answered for him, "If Hagrid doesn't like you, you don't stand a chance with the rest of the family."

I glared at her, but the way Albus nodded at her, and then at me, I knew that at least he must think she was right. Dammit. He let go of my cuff, and I fought the urge to grab his instead. I liked having him close and connected. It made me feel like what we had was really real.

"What if I don't care?" I asked haughtily, feeling extremely torn. On the one hand, Albus was an awesome friend; one I would probably cherish the rest of my life. On the other hand, Slytherin or not, he came descended from a very long line of Gryffindors, who were all decidedly anti-Malfoy-ish people. So I could either stand by my pureblood principles, a dastardly mistake my forefathers had made (and a strangely Gryffindor ideal, if you think about it, standing by ones principles), or behave like a true Slytherin and do whatever it took to keep my best friend.

They were both staring at me looking rather unamused.

"Fine. I'll butter up the half-giant." I sighed dramatically.

Albus smiled triumphantly, but Rosie's mouth stayed unequivocally in a frown. Apparently, she didn't like me very much.

Heh.

--

Hagrid didn't try to hide his surprise when he opened the door to find a blonde head where there usually wasn't one.

"Wah's he doin' here?" He asked in an accent so booming and crude I felt he cold knock me over with words alone.

"Ask Albus," Rose told him snidely, "Malfoy's _his_ friend."

"Waht?!"

"Er" Albus ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual, "It's a long story...Can we come in?"

Miraculously, after a long bewildered look at Potter, he lumbered aside and let us through. My first thought was about the irony of a giant living in the smallest house I'd ever seen. Rosie, Albus, and I alone would have been cramped in the tiny hut, but with Hagrid looming over us, blocking my view of most of the ceiling, it was downright ridiculous.

Four large beakers were taken down from hooks on the wall and set before us, and water from an enormous kettle was poured into an equally gigantic teapot. Hagrid pushed a tin full of lumpy biscuits towards each one of us, and once we'd all taken one he settle down and began to pour the tea. I knew there was no way it had steeped long enough, but I said nothing and attempted to take a bite out of the (I could only assume) chocolate cookie.

After nearly chipping my tooth, I glanced over at Albus who was exaggeratedly dunking a biscuit in his beaker. I mimicked him, and found that I could scrape off a layer of mush with my teeth if so inclined.

"So, yuh gunna tell meh wahts goin' on here?"

"It's just like Rosie said, Hagrid." Albus said with a soft smile, "Scorpius is my friend, and I wanted him to meet you."

All eyes seemed to turn to me. I gulped down my tea anxiously, not meeting Hgrid's eyes at all costs. I looked over to Rosie who was smirking slightly while nibbling her own chocolate rock cake.

"Nice to meet you." I said softly.

**Hagrid's the best, ain't he? I was so terrified in the 7****th**** book when I thought he'd died. And he was still around in the epilogue! So glad to know he didn't die of old age, like JKR has implied McGonagal did.**

**Okay, so, I may not update again for a while. I'm going off to unt and the computer is not coming with me. My flashdrive will, though, so I will try to write when I'm not studying my buns off!**

**So what are the thoughts? tell! tell! Chocolate Frogs for all!**


	3. In Which James Potter is a Douche

Chapter 3

**I solemnly swear I will never refer to Albus Potter as Al. I swear it. Flame me if I do.**

**Chapter 3! OMFG! Who'd d'thunk it possible?! lawls**

Nobody has just elements from one house in them. Mr. Potter has quite a bit of cunning from Slytherin; Rosie and Hugo's dad, though a pure Gryffendor in many ways has the loyalty of a Hufflepuff; even my father, 99.9 Slytherin, has some Ravenclaw ways about him. We've all got a few elements from each of them and it's our most dominant traits that decide which house we belong in. That's my theory anyway.

Hagrid is what I would classify as a Gryffendor/Hufflepuff cusp. He was like (and I say this knowing I'm going to hear about it later) the Potter family dog. Or better yet, the family dragon: Bigger, more dangerous, and older than the Grand Gryffendor Clan, but as loyal as if they'd brought him up from a pup. Dumbledore I can understand. Hagrid owed a lot to Dumbledore. The place to live, the job, and the whole anti-discrimination thing, means that there were plenty of reasons for Hagrid to keep dear ol' Dumbles happy.

The Potters, however, owe a lot to Hagrid and he owes very little to them, which is why I cannot understand the loyalty. I don't know the whole story very well, but from what I know of it, Harry Potter was carted around like a precious package by Hagrid and the lot until The-Boy-Who-Lived decided to become The-Boy-Who-Got-A-Life and took off with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on their own. When it comes right down to it, quite a lot of people have saved Albus' dad's life, Hagrid at quite a little forefront of his own.

At any rate, for the forty-five minutes that Albus, Rose, and I were privileged to his company, all Hagrid did was talk about how great Albus and Rosie's parents were and how much I looked like my dad.

"He was being nice," Albus informed me later, green orbs twinkling with mirth, "He didn't have anything nice to say about your dad except his looks."

Incidentally, the idea that Hagrid liked my dad's looks haunted me like calling him a spoiled brat/tattletale would never have managed.

On the way back to the school proper, we could see the Quidditch pitch where the Slytherin team was practicing. Some of them were wearing their scarves too keep warm in the hastily approaching winter, and damn the risks of strangulation and all that crap Madame Hooch barked at us. I watched them enviously, wishing I'd gotten over my distracting depression long enough to think of going to try-outs. Rosie watched them too, no doubt in an attempt to pass along any information she could to her maroon-and-gold comrades, though they were no where near close enough to attain any real idea of what they were doing. Albus only just barely glanced, before turning away dramatically and staring at the front doors to the castle as though they were the only thing he could see. Heights. I'd almost forgotten.

--

I must admit I found a certain perverse delight in the horrified way everyone was reacting to our relationship. And in spite of myself I confided this to Albus, to which he immediately decided that we must milk this hilarity for all it was worth. Our depression-fueled study habits during the first couple of months, jumpstarted our academia until classes were a breeze, meaning that there was more than enough room to goof off a little.

We sat together in every class, talked animatedly about nothing whenever others were near, and began synchronizing our movements like we were twins or something. When we walked, we stepped in time, strutting right down the middle of the hallway, so all could see. If we opened out text books in class we did so simultaneously, and with a sort of rhythm. Every class period became like that: sit – open – read – grin. We were absolutely equals in smarts, which only added to our twin persona, as we almost always raised our hand at the same time.

By Friday of that week we were getting a bit tired of it, but I was no longer the miserable waif I had once been and being ostracized was more fun than ever. Halloween was drawing near, and so we happily chatted about what our first Hogwarts holiday would be like on the way back to the dormitories from Charms, completely disregarding the troubled glances we were getting. But one of those looks was coming from none other than James.

"Are you just trying to get disowned, or something?" James Potter was popular, or at least I deduced as much, seeing the large group of Gryffindor behind him. "I mean, first Slytherin and now _this_?" he gestured to me, obviously disgusted.

Albus narrowed his eyes in anger for a few moments, but this washed from his face as he turned to me.

"Scorpius, I don't believe you've been formally introduced to my brother." He said jovially, "Scorpius, Prick. Prick, Scorpius."

I know I shouldn't have laughed. There were at least five of them, all athletic looking Gryffindors, and only two of us puny bookish lads. But laugh I did, and six sets of eyes flew to me, only one set amused.

Well, maybe two, Mars Thompson does enjoy a good joke.

"That's it, Albus." James spat "I'm not looking out for you any longer. You're on your own."

"When was I not?!" Albus shot right back "Good riddance to you and your prejudice!"

"Hey now, we're not the ones who've got it out for muggleborns." Mars defended, brushing a dreadlock out of his face.

"Next thing you'll be accusing him of opening the Chamber of Secrets!" Albus threw his hands in the air.

"James, lay off. You're being ridiculous." The feminine voice took us all off guard. Turning toward the stairs, we found Rosie bounding down them looking annoyed.

"You're not seriously taking his side." James stated, eyes narrowing as if trying to see something of her reasoning as a physical presence.

"Is there a side to take?" Rosie inquired shrewdly, moving to stand between James and us "All I'm saying is Albus isn't your dad, and Scorpius isn't his father, so who the…hell cares if they hang out?" (Ooo, Rosie cussed!)

"I do!" James answered rather stupidly.

"Well, I don't, so buzz off!" Her pigtails swished dramatically as she turned her back on him, "Come on, lads. Let's go sit by the lake."

We followed her away from the confrontation in silence, but after a while I couldn't help myself any longer.

"Er, Rosie?" I asked, bounding onto the grounds right along side her, "Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?"

She smiled so genuinely I almost gasped.

"Hagrid likes you."

Years later, I happened to ask her why exactly she came to our defense that day. Her reply was so Rosie-like, I had to smile. She said: "It was like I suddenly realized you weren't the bad guy." She meant, of course, that I wasn't the bully she expected me to be, but I liked the way that comment just ever-so-vaguely hinted that the bad guy was James.

Rose fit right in with us. Our schedules were similar (why they always put Slytherin and Gryffindors together in doubles classes, I'll never know), and I was surprised to find her an equal, academically speaking. It didn't exactly come easy to her the way it did with me, and she wasn't information hungry the way Albus was (and still is), but she was good at work. When she decides to get something done, it gets done. End of story.

Albus seemed completely bewildered by our friendship, not that he minded it. He kept looking at me sideways when he knew I could see him but Rose couldn't. It wasn't until after the eighth day of sitting by the lake doing nothing, and a completely retarded Moaning Myrtle joke, while we all laughed and Rosie shoved my arm slightly and Albus grinned at me, that I realized what those sideways glances meant.

Albus thought I fancied Rosie.

"Oh, Rosie?" I voiced as though I had just remembered a question I'd been meaning to ask for quite some time, "Do you know Becky?"

"Mars's sister?" she asked back, eye brow raised.

"Yeah." I cleared my throat in a nervous sort of way, "Are you friends with her… I mean, you do talk to her and stuff, don't you?"

"Uh, no." she said softly, a small frown drawing down the ends of her mouth.

Rosie took special interest in a blade of grass, picking at it and progressively tearing it to shreds. She shook her head as if clearing her mind, then turned back to me.

"I mean, she's a Hufflepuff, and a year older, and sort of shy, and…" she paused, turning back to the demolished piece of lawn near her knee, "I don't really hang out with the other Gryffindors that much, so its not as if Mars would have introduced her."

"You're a loaner like us." I offered pleasantly, completely forgetting my plot to make them both think I fancied Becky Thompson.

"There's an oxymoron for you." Albus said with a light chuckle and a grin, "'Loaners like us.' I like it."

"Loan wolves, each of us." I consented happily.

"Loan wolves with a pack" Rosie corrected.

Albus stood up slowly, brushing wet grass from his backside lazily, and we stood up with him.

"It's getting late. And cold," He said.

"Yeah," I replied easily.

We walked in silence back through the huge doors, and along the short way to where we would part ways.

"See you in herbology tomorrow, I guess." Rosie walked almost backward to wave goodbye as she went up the stairs, seeming quite sad to go back to her dorm.

I would be too if I didn't have Albus to sleep next to each night.

--

"I don't fancy Rosie."

"Sure. Whatever."

"I don't!"

"I believe you. Go to sleep."

"No! You don't believe me! I don't believe you believe me!"

"Scorpius…" I could hear the eyeroll in his voice, even with his back to me the way he was laying on his side.

"I don't like her. Not like that."

"You're denying it too much" he reasoned.

"No, I'm denying it just enough. I don't fancy her."

Albus sighed heavily and rolled over, so our noses were almost touching, and our breath mingled above the pillow we shared.

"I kind of wish you did."

"Why?!"

"Because…" he rolled onto his back this time, staring at the canopy above us without really seeing it, "she needs to have someone to like her. All the Gryffindors are being mean to her since she's started hanging out with us, and when we were little she always used to say she was going to get a boyfriend practically the second we came to Hogwarts."

"Fecking Gryffindors."

"Tell me about it."

"I'm sorry I don't fancy her," I laid my head near his and let our bare feet touch in a way I hoped seemed natural, "I sort of wish I did now."

"'sokay" Albus said sleepily, "Herbology's tomorrow."

"I know. I can't wait." And I meant it.

--

I woke up the way you always hope to wake up when you sleep in the same bed with someone you fancy: both of you on your side, their back to your front, all curled around. The truth is, most of the time you wake up either crushing or being crushed, _or_ barely touching at all. Waking up in the perfect definition of spooning gives you a happy feeling that little else can.

However, when you're eleven and the person you're spooning is your best mate, the general consensus is usually to freak out. And freak out I did. I sprung from the comfortable warmth of my bed and made a dash for the bathroom. Thankful I'd thought to bring my robe with me, so I went ahead and took a shower before leaving again.

When I got out, Albus was already dressed and getting his books together.

"Did you have to shake the bed so much when you got up?" he asked grumpily. Jonathan, our fellow first year whose bed was right next to mine, made a surprised sound, his eyes widening ever so slightly. I didn't buy it.

TO ALL THOSE NON-SLYTHERINS OUT THERE: Slytherins are sneaky (duh). Any Slytherin worth his weight in salt does not let it be known that he (or she -happy now Rose?-) has a hold of potential blackmail information unless they want it to be known.

I glared at John until he turned around, pretending it was because he was changing rather than through the sheer power of my gaze.

"Needed to pee." I told Albus bluntly.

I expected him to just roll his eyes, but he didn't. Instead, he smirked. Fuck. He knew why. He had probably been awake, the jerk.

I went over to my small dresser and started taking out the same old uniform shirt and pants as always. Someday I would show the world my absotively fantabulous fashion sense, but not today. I pulled my plain white shirt over my head, only bothering to undo the top three buttons, did the quick down-up of changing one's pants and trousers in front of others, then turned around to alert Albus to my readiness.

Albus was leaning against one of the bedposts of his own, un-slept-in, bed, staring at his feet. He looked more than a little morose. I took a few steps toward him, stopping just short of our respective personal spaces.

"I wouldn't…you know," he shrugged, still not looking me in the eye, "molest you or anything."

"What?" I asked, legitimately surprised.

"I mean," he turned the full power of his gaze on me (and let me tell you, that is quite a heavy lot of green intensity), "if you don't want me sleeping in your bed, just tell me. I don't want you to think I'm…using you for…something dirty…and because of the life-debt…you can't tell me to…go…go to hell, or whatever."

He took a deep breath.

"Like I said, I won't molest you or anything." He finished, looking away once more.

I stared at him. He was feeling…rejected?

"I had a woody." I said, a sort of unreal sound in my voice, like I wasn't really speaking.

"What?" it was his turn to be surprised, eyes whipping back to me so fast his hair moved slightly around his face.

"I woke up, curled around you, with a morning-woody." I told him completely truthfully, "So I got fecking out of there as quickly as I could and took care of it in the shower.

"Heh." He said lightly, "Heh…hehehe…heeheehee!"

The way Albus laughed was like one of those older models of broom. You jump up with 'em and they take to the air sluggishly at first, then with a sudden jolt, they take off full speed.

Albus had to hold himself up, clutching to his bedpost in a desperate attempt to not fall to the floor. The laughter came in peals, one rolling over the other, in-between gusts of frantic gasps for air. Unable to resist any longer, I began laughing too. We fell back onto Albus' bed laughing till our sides hurt. I pretended not to see John sneak past us to leave.

**There you have it. Tell the truth now, is the "morning woody" moment a bit too much? Well, its too late now, i guess. **

**A huge part of this chapter was from some of my original notes when I got the idea for a Albus/Scorpius story. I battled with myself trying not to put the confrontation with James in there, but lost spectacularly, so the whole thing went in.**

**Please Review! **

**3 flora 3**


	4. In Which John Simmons Enters Stage Right

"You know something, Potter," I said in my best noncommittal voice, "you have a knack for insulting my intelligence."

"It's not hard." Albus replied, without missing a beat.

My jaw dropped open slightly and Albus giggled into his pumpkin juice. We were sitting at breakfast, off in our own little portion of the Slytherin table as usual. Or so I thought. As it was, I had just enough time to consider the very un-Malfoy-esque way my mouth was hanging open before John was sitting across from us.

"So are you two, like...a couple?" he asked tactlessly. I ignored him.

"See here, Potter." I did my best to keep my voice superior, which wasn't hard, "What you said this morning was complete poppycock. As if I'd ever mistake a life-debt for some sort of...improper..."

"So...is that a...no...?" John asked.

"Well, you managed to become my friend without much forethought." Albus pointed out, ignoring John just as pointedly as I was.

"I was shocked." I excused, "Upon further reflection..."

"Oh, can it." He smiled sincerely at me, "We both made our choices based on half-truths. Here we are together, and it's fantastic, right?"

"So, that's a yes?" John varied his question for a third time.

I recovered from the "can it" line long enough to appreciate that our friendship maybe—perhaps, sort of—was one of those permanent and wonderful things. Then I finally acknowledged John's annoying persistence.

"How about you fill your mouth with food, rather than stupid questions, Simmons." I snapped.

"My parents are both blokes," he stated bluntly, "So I won't judge."

"So you're a poufter too, then, is that what you're saying?" Albus asked, just as annoyed by this boy's very un-Slytherin ways.

"No!" John insisted, swallowing rather hard, "It's just that, if you two were, I wouldn't mind...being friends. I mean...if that's why everyone is avoiding you two, because you're gay, well...It's not right."

"What are you on about?" I asked, completely taken aback.

"Can he really not know?" Albus asked me, as if John were not sitting there.

"Know what?" he asked.

"He has to know." I reasoned, "Everybody who's anybody knows."

"And the nobodies, too, for that matter."

"Know what?!" John exclaimed. Both Albus and I turned hard stares to John's face, trying to reason his capability to lie. You never could know in Slytherin. Maybe he was being intentionally dense in order to pull one over on us later. Give a few laughs to our fellow dorm mates, Alcander and Richard.

"You really don't know?" Albus asked him suspiciously.

"Know what?!" John cried, more than a little annoyed.

"Who our fathers are," I offered up, and Albus nodded to show that was, indeed, what he'd meant.

"Well, your father's Harry Potter," he pointed to Albus and, then turning to me, he said, "Isn't your father some wealthy business man or some such thing?"

"My father is _Draco Malfoy_," I stated, abashed.

"Wait a second, Scorpius." Albus held up his hand to me, and considered John quietly for a few moments. "You wouldn't happen to be muggle-born, would you, Simmons?"

"Uh, not strictly speaking, no." He drilled his fingers on the table a little while we waited for him to continue, "Both my dads are muggles, but I was adopted. All I know for sure is that my mother and father were both pureblooded, and that they were in the war, but I'm not sure on which side, or even what their names were. They didn't want me, you see."

"I can't imagine any pureblooded family not wanting a son." I admonished, "Surely there's some mistake."

"Unless..." He surveyed Jonathan coolly, "You won't spaz out if I say this, will you?"

"Doubt it." He shrugged, "I mean, if it's about my parents, I never knew them, so..."

"What are you thinking?" I asked him, curious.

"Just that, like you said, no pureblooded family would give up their only son, unless there were extenuating circumstances."

"Such as...?"

"Prison," Albus said flatly, watching John carefully as he continued to speak, "If your mother was in Azkaban, and somehow found herself pregnant, they wouldn't let her raise the baby in a cell, would they?"

John seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Wait!" my eyes widened a bit stupidly, "His mum could be Bellatrix LeStrange?"

"Time to brush up on your family history, Scorpy." Albus teased, "Grandma Weasley killed that bitch aunt of yours."

We both laughed, even though we knew we shouldn't.

"Do you mean…" John was staring at us, eyes as wide as a cliché, "that your grandmother"—he gestured to Albus—"killed your"—he gestured to me—"aunt? In the war?"

"You seriously didn't know?" I asked, just to make things ridiculously clear.

"The thing is," Albus explained much more patiently than anticipated—much to my chagrin; this guy was cutting into my Albus time. "Both our dads were enemies in school. Opposite sides of the war..."

"Not because my dad wanted to be," I added. "His dad pressured him into it."

Albus nodded, allowing acquiesces to this.

("I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Means no." Anybody? Anybody? Come on! I cannot be the only pureblood wizard who enjoys muggle cinema!

Says Albus: I wouldn't be too sure about that.)

"So our families don't get along." Albus concluded, "At All."

"Not to mention that this one," I jerked my thumb in the green-eyed-wonder's general direction, "comes from a long line of Gryffindors, and managed to get himself quite neatly placed in Slytherin."

"And this one," he gestured to me in the same way I had to him, "comes from a long line of Slytherins who managed to get themselves neatly placed in Azkaban."

"So there's bad mojo all around." Johnny reasoned.

Albus and I looked at each other, shrugged in unison, then turned back to him and both nodded.

---

Johnny Simmons was the gap in-between the extremes of Albus and I. Black/brown/blonde. Green/hazel/blue. Two siblings/one sibling/none.

Where Albus had a knack at playing any sweet little role that got him what he wanted, Johnny had jokes to cover his shyness, and I was a sourpuss.

That is until Albus mussed my hair and told me to lighten up, or Johnny put his arm around my shoulders and whispered a dirty word in my ear. ("Hey Malfoy" "Sod off!" "No, no, no! commere! ...bollocks... *laughter*")

It was, however, mildly problematic for Rosie, who found herself thrust into a friendship with yet another Slytherin, one with a knack for dirty jokes and no sense of personal space. He would tug on her hair, straighten her clothes, and mime groping her. Many an afternoon was topped off by a pained cry from Rosie:

"Merlin! Why do I hang out with guys?!"

Another thing that Johnny brought to our little wolf pack was music. He owned an acoustic guitar, which he could not play, but from which he would retrieve numerous folksy muggle songs. When the songs were more energetic, he would chime into air-guitar rifts that would put any wannabe rock star to shame. He was pretty lame, even for an eleven year old, but I knew what I was asking Santa Clause for that year.

Music became something we had to have every moment of every day that we could manage it. Johnny's favorites were techno beats and the kind of hard rock that is near grating to any but those who absolutely love it. Rosie liked rock-and-roll, and hip-hop; anything she could dance to—or that contained a hyphen, apparently—shaking her hips and raising her arms over her head in a way that might have been provocative, had she had breasts at the time. Albus liked interesting mixes and sounds that "felt good in his mouth", lyrics and such.

As for me, I am almost ashamed to say, I was well into emo, alternative rock. My favorite song on the radio at the time was entitled "Looking4Trouble" from the album "Tales From a Broken Wand". Were I to meet my past self today I think I would slap him right across the face for the idiocy of it, but I was only eleven and pop music didn't satisfy my pallet for long.

Life seemed to finally be falling into place for all four of us; the Gryffindor girl who hung with Slytherins, the muggle-born (or, at least, muggle-raised), the son of a traitor, and the son of a savior. We sat out by the lake, underneath our favorite tree, listening to Albus' wireless he'd barely touched before, playing games or simply chatting. It was one of those simple moments you remember for the rest of your life. Nothing groundbreaking, new or different, just you and your friends enjoying the day. A time of such pristine happiness you don't notice until later how happy you truly were. The kind of happiness than can never really last for long.

The four of us were walking back from double-potions one afternoon, heading back to our usual spot under our tree, when Albus' name rang through the hall. We all turned to find James standing next to an empty classroom gesturing that his younger brother should go inside.

"What do you want?" Albus called over the eight or so yards to where his brother stood.

"I need to talk to you," His eyes scanned the three of us disapprovingly, "alone."

Albus rolled his eyes and turned pointedly on his heel, so I did the same. Johnny and Rosie followed on either side of us, and I was a little proud to see Rose toss her hair in a distinctively snobbish way.

"It's about Dad." James said evenly, causing Albus to stop in his tracks.

"Not without me." I said instantly.

Albus turned to look at me, his face strangely soft.

"Of course not."

The two of us turned back around, motioning that the others should go on without us.

"Fine, it includes you anyhow," James all but spat.

"You've already done your little speech, Jimmy." Albus gave him a wry smile, "I have no intention of sitting through another one. Yes, I know Father probably won't like that I'm friends with Draco Malfoy's son, but frankly, I don't care."

"Dad doesn't know." James said suddenly, voice almost cutting his little brother off, "I haven't told him, and no one else has either, apparently. He doesn't know, but you're going to have to tell him. Or I will."

I turned my surprised expression to gaze at Albus who was standing perfectly still. His eyes stared straight into his brother's, face frozen in the dismissive expression he'd begun a few moments ago. His hands were not slack at his sides, but not tense, just still. I watched my best friend hide what he was feeling and realized that I might be the only one who knew what that stillness meant. I stepped outside myself and noted that to the rest of the word he looked relaxed, bored, disinterested. Only someone who spent their nights in his bed, and every waking hour by his side would notice the raging turmoil that stillness represented.

"Fine," Albus stated suddenly, and it was like watching a statue come back to life, "I'll let him know, but in person. Christmas break is coming up and I want to see Scorpius for at least some of it. Might as well tell him then."

"I'll tell my father as well." The words sounded like me, posh, superior, but I had no idea where they'd come from. Albus gave me a funny look and I shrugged, "We'll face the wrath together."

Then Albus smiled. A bright, shiny, glorious, beautiful smile that left me smiling too, before I even knew why. It was because I'd done something then. Without realizing it, I'd proved myself as a friend. James looked shocked at my proclamation. I realized that not only had I volunteered to face the wrath of maybe the two most formidable wizards today with Albus, but I'd also helped him win a silent battle with his brother. I'd proved Albus' trust in me to be worthy, and shown James' prejudice for just that: an unfair judgment.

Still smiling, the two of us turned away from dumbstruck James, and headed towards where we knew Johnny and Rose would be waiting.

---

What can I say about classes that anyone who has ever gone to Hogwarts won't know already? And how could I possibly explain it to someone who's never been at all? I'll put it to you this way, aside from the general madness that is Hogwarts, the schoolwork is just that: work. Most first-years either get caught in the wonderment of it all, and enjoy every minute of their homework just for the simple fact that they're learning magic—muggleborns, usually—or they just about drown in their assignments, alternating in-between frantically attempting to do too much at once and saying "screw it" and shirking the lot.

As fond as I was of cussing when I was eleven, Albus and I were of that mysterious third category known by the bitter as "those assholes that don't do shit and still get good grades" and by the older students as "the first years who actually study." I've already talked about our late-night study sessions, but it went beyond that. We became an unstoppable studying team, our depression-fueled study habits during the first couple of months jumpstarting our academia until classes were a breeze. Our easy friendship meant that we could sit for hours, alone through no effort on our part, in some corner of the commons, and simply read for hours.

Johnny rarely joined us for these pleasantly confrontation-less hours. He was of the first subset, being raised by muggle parents. In fact, he'd read most of his books on the train ride to Hogwarts, and preferred his study to be of a practical nature, practicing spells whenever he could. Quiet wasn't something he understood, but he was also a Slytherin and knew when to shut up or go away.

The night before the Hogwarts Express was due to pull back up to the castle station was just one such time. Most of our housemates were frantically trying to find their things for last minute packing, where as Albus and I had secured our trunks that morning. We'd been sitting, reading our winter break homework instructions over and over and making notes in margins of our books. Boredom studying, Albus called it. Easy, yet time consuming; the extra effort most people neglect because they have better things to do. Albus and I rarely had better things to do.

"Does it echo in your house?" Albus asked suddenly, looking up at me.

"In some places." I tilted my head and kept my eyes on him, not asking why, but silently offering for him to explain.

"I just wondered." Albus said softly. "I've never seen any pictures, but I've heard stories, and I know your family is incredibly wealthy. I assume it is very large."

"Well, it's not Hogwarts, but the Quidditch pitch could probably fit inside it." I grimaced, without really knowing why. It wasn't wrong to state one's wealth, especially considering Albus' family was far from destitute themselves. Yet somehow, bragging felt wrong with Albus. It felt pointless because he simply did not care, judging value on a different spectrum entirely. I'd like to say that Albus ranked people by intelligence, but that's only one of many traits he valued, most of which he kept close to his chest. The silent judge—that was Potter.

"Actually," I continued, when Albus' eyes did not go back to his work, "The ballroom echoes really well. When I was little, I used to yell as loud and as fast as I could to see if I could get all my words to echo back at me at the same time."

"Your parents must have enjoyed the racket." Albus grinned at me, attentive to my story.

"It didn't bother them. Their rooms are far enough away," I explained, "And I had to yell -- there's a spell that muffles the natural echo of the room so parties won't rattle the walls."

"My dad hates parties." Albus rubbed his nose and turned back to his work.

"The next time we have one I'll invite you!" I heard the eager, childish chirp in my voice, but it was too late. I waited for the disdain of my un-Slytherin-like behavior, but instead I got another one of those disarming smiles.

"Really?! You think your dad would let me?"

"If your dad would."

**Ladies and Gentlemen: I did it! Another chapter finished, and isn't it grand? **

**So here's the dealio, fyi. I thought summer would mean updates, but my parent's house doesn't have Internet. _ Luckily, I've been kicked out of dear Mama's home, and am now living with my aunt. I'm still not making huge promises, seeing as I need to get a job and whatnot, but I now have interwebs and time on my hands, so let's hope for the best!**

**Please leave me a review!**

**Hugs and Kisses,**

**Flo**


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